


Troublemaker

by AlphaWolfAl



Series: Al's Memories Of FFXV [10]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: And Sass, M/M, Or don't, Oral Sex, a fic inspired by the world of another fic, and is a self-insert, and it is definitely just, please forgive me for adding gross smut to this world, this has no plot, whatever i'm hard on my bullshit and horny on main 24/7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 16:51:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17369744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlphaWolfAl/pseuds/AlphaWolfAl
Summary: It's barely noon and already, one Cor Leonis, The Immortal, Marshall of The Crownsguard, and, more recently, guardian of a teenager who grew up an MT raised somewhere he can barely stand to think about a kid being, really just wants a fucking nap, maybe a drink. A young Glaive has a better idea to relieve some tension.





	Troublemaker

**Author's Note:**

> So there's not a whole lot to make this really clear in this fic itself, but it's important to me that I say this. This is technically set within the world of lithos_saeculum's glorious fic Poor Wayfaring Stranger https://archiveofourown.org/works/11725950/chapters/26417871 WITH WHICH I AM IN NO WAY ACTUALLY AFFILIATED THIS IS NOT IN ANY CAPACITY OFFICIAL TO THAT AU BUT PLEASE READ THAT FIC BECAUSE IT'S ABSOLUTELY BEAUTIFUL!
> 
> Forgive me daddy for I have sinned.
> 
> My girlfriend and I were both in agreement that Cor needed to get laid, and that Glaive Al was as good a person as any to do the job.

It's barely noon and already, one Cor Leonis, The Immortal, Marshall of The Crownsguard, and, more recently, guardian of a teenager who grew up an MT raised somewhere he can barely stand to think about a kid being, really just wants a fucking nap, maybe a drink.

As it is, however, he's ducking into an alcove in one of the passageways used by the serving staff and personal attendants of the royal family just to catch half a minute of peace and quiet before he goes about the rest of his day.

He's had barely two deep breaths, precisely twenty three seconds if the counting he's been doing is correct, before the soft scuff of a boot warns him to look up.

The young man is inches from him, walking lazily, tall, with wide shoulders, strong arms, and a soft belly. His face is in his phone, but suddenly he stops short, head shooting up to look Cor in the face.

“Wow. You look like shit. Kids are rough huh?” The blond's low voice and bold statement are startling for different reasons.

Cor, stunned into a moment of speechlessness, takes a breath before replying.

“You don't pull any punches huh, kid?”

He studies the man from knee-high Kingsglaive boots, to the lazily open Glaive uniform coat, to the bright blue bead holding together a Galahdan braid edging a shaved portion of his blond curls.

And the man studies him back, crystal blue eyes sharp as a smirk lifts his full lips.

What's his name? Cor knows he knows this man's name but it escapes him. The Glaive isn't his responsibility, but this young man has gotten entangled with members of Crownsguard recently.

The brunette takes another long slow breath, since apparently the blond is just going to stand there, leaning on the wall and watching him.

The Glaive chooses then to break the silence.

“You really need to get laid.” He laughs lowly and tacks on in a lazy way. “Sir.”

Cor snaps his head up and fixes the kid with a hard stare.

“Now that's pushing it.”

The blond grins, blue gaze sharp and staring right into the Marshall's own sapphire eyes.

“Oh I haven't even begun to... push.”

Something in his tone, and the way he licks his lips slowly before finishing his sentence, implies more than defiance.

The older man thinks about walking away, even actually rolls his eyes. But some part of him agrees with the idea. A very specific part of him. So he doesn't leave the alcove.

“So you want me to what? Get a babysitter and pick up someone in a bar? Hate to break it to you kid, but that's not my style.”

“I'm someone. No bar. No babysitter. Easy peasy.”

Cor stiffens, body going tense and a throb building in his loins.

“We are both at work.”

The blond, his brain finally furnishes a name, Brown, Aleric R., laughs.

“I'm on break for another twenty minutes or so.”

Cor forces a frown.

“I'm not.”

Why did he remember the name in sequence like that? He must have read it on an official form.

Aleric sighs softly.

“Look. I get it. You don't know me. I'm just some punk kid in the Glaive. You've seen me around because I'm a troublemaker. Half those forms you've had to read are because I don't care about getting caught and, what was it... I am...” He raises a hand to make air quotes. “Enticing members of the 'Guard into illicit situations.”

There's something about this kid. About the way his bright supernova blue eyes don't leave Cor's face. It entraps the Marshall, pinning him to the spot in that dim alcove in a passage rarely used.

His mind strategizes the situation. They wouldn't be disturbed here, nobody would have to know.

“So what do you say?” He winks at the older man.

Cor speaks too quickly, defensive despite his own analysis of the relative safety of the situation.

“Kid, I appreciate the offer, but no.”

The blond bows his head, steps away from the wall, moves to leave.

“Ok. Whatever you say. I'm not here to force myself on you.”

The Immortal can't stop himself. He clears his throat and speaks.

“I uh.. What's your name, kid?”

The Glaive pauses, turns his head a bit, one bright eye looking over his shoulder at the older man.

“Al. But you knew that.” Cor can hear the grin in his voice. “Are you stalling, Marshall?”

So he prefers a shorter name. A fact worth remembering. The brunette rakes a hand through his hair with a sigh.

“Yea. I know your name.” He takes a slow breath again, looking away for a moment before looking back. “What are you offering?”

“Right here?” He hums in thought. “Well I don't have any of my stuff... But I'm pretty good with my mouth.” Al, his name is Al, winks over his shoulder at the other man.

Another throb in his loins and he can feel himself tense again, he shifts a bit, looks away from the other man, looks back, finally finds his words again.

“I... if you're still offering...?”

In a smooth motion the blond turns and lowers to his knees in front of the Marshall.

“I am.” There's a wicked promise in his eyes, in the way his lips tilt in a smirk, in how he meets Cor's eyes from where his broad form kneels on the cold cement floor.

Cor's breath catches in his chest and he closes his eyes. His voice is barely a whisper as it slips past his lips.

“Please... Yes.”

Big warm hands are working his pants open immediately, freeing his length, a soft whistle of appreciation as a calloused heat wraps around his cock.

Al strokes him slowly, too slowly, Cor's hips jerk into the younger man's hand and he grunts softly.

“More... Gods more...” Even to his own ears his voice is embarrassingly needy.

But his demands are met, the Glaive moves his hand faster.

The Marshall's cock throbs in his hand and soft whines muffle into the back of Cor's own hand as he tries to stifle the noise of his pleasure.

Suddenly the heat of his hand is gone but his tongue is hotter as it slides slowly up the underside of the older man's length. It draws a sharp gasp from Cor as the metal of the younger man's tongue piercing catches gently on the sensitive spot right under the head.

The blond parts his lips and slowly takes the already weeping head into his mouth. The pressure of hard metal from the lip piercing hitches and catches maddeningly on sensitive flesh as he bobs his head in short slow motions.

That hot tongue moves over the head, teasing at the slit, pressing and moving and seeking every place that makes the older man gasp and squirm.

Cor grips at blond hair, startlingly soft even to his pleasure-addled mind, and his hips jerk a bit pushing himself into the young man's mouth further.

The Glaive allows it, even leaning forward more and lengthening the slow bobs of his head.

The Marshall cries out against his own hand when the other man's calloused fingers rub slowly at the over-sensitive space just behind his balls.

He tenses and gasps sharper than before when one thick finger rims his hole.

Al pulls back slowly, not moving his hand further.

“No?”

Cor's brain needs a moment to catch up, so he spends that moment staring dumbly at the blond while a soft whine bubbles up his throat.

Then he suddenly understands. The Glaive is asking if he's done something wrong.

“It's ah... Gods it's fine I'm just... Out of practice.” Cor even blushes, still speaking into the back of his own hand.

“You tell me if I'm not making you feel good. Got it?” Al's voice takes on a sharp tone of command.

And Cor's brain can't argue with the way it makes his cock throb so hard it bounces an inch from the blond's face.

“Yea. Sure kid. You got it.”

“Good boy.” He says it like it's second nature for him. Maybe it is. Cor has no fucking clue about this kid's life.

Then his mouth is back, taking the older man's cock in deeper with a low hum, almost a growl.

A shudder, and then a soft keening moan, leave the brunette, still muffled but definitely loud enough to carry in the hollow passageway.

Al's tongue moves in careful ways, searching for what the Marshall reacts to the most. His finger presses at Cor's hole more firmly now and the older man huffs a breath and relaxes. He knows it's better if he relaxes, and it's easy enough with that hot wet mouth on him.

It's a thick finger, big hands, one of which was spread wide and hot even through his shirt over his belly pinning his back to the wall, a hot mouth with a steel rod through the tongue, he can't form real thoughts anymore.

As that thick finger slowly eases its way inside him the Immortal pants up at the ceiling and grips at thick blond locks again with the hand not still trying to muffle himself.

Then the calloused fingertip inside him runs across something that makes him see spots and lances lightning through him and Cor can't hold back the keen of want he lets out.

The blond purrs around his cock and rubs slowly at that spot. Each time, Cor's body sings in pleasure and his voice rings out, the hand in front of his mouth doing little to stifle it.

A sudden jerk of the older man's hips catches the blond's throat and he pulls back to gag a bit but quickly regains himself and presses that big hand harder into Cor's belly.

“Hold. Still.” His blue eyes are dark as he speaks, there's no question the younger man expects to be obeyed.

Right then, his body hot and heaving and hanging so close to the edge, the Marshall wouldn't have argued with him if he wanted to, and he finds he doesn't want to.

The swift return of wet heat around his member and the simultaneous press of a finger on his prostate suddenly blinds the older man with white light and his body surges forward trying to bury his cock deeper as the first pulses of orgasm shake him.

Al is fast to yank his head back, but the first spurt of seed lands on his tongue, then his lips, then over his cheek.

Cor gives the last of his spunk into the blond's hot palm.

Al growls lowly, spits out what's in his mouth, wrinkles his nose at the taste, and then does something Cor doesn't expect.

“Sorry. Guess I shoulda paid more attention. Usually I'm better at guessing that.”

Cor can barely breathe but he responds anyways.

“Shit... Why are you apologizing I just... fuck it was in your mouth...”

The Glaive laughs and shakes his head.

“Hazard of the job. Sometimes when you suck a dick you get cum in your mouth.”

He does wrinkle his nose again, and spit once more.

“Not my favorite texture though.”

Cor blushes brightly and fumbles quickly trying to find something to clean the younger man's face with.

“Let me get you something to clean up with...”

Al chuckles lowly and stands, looming up over the other man.

“You've got the perfect something...”

A big, calloused, thumb passes over Cor's lower lip as he speaks.

The Marshall flushes bright red but leans in and cautiously licks at his own seed in the younger man's beard. Then up his chin. Then his cheek.

He avoids his lips despite the obscene splash of white there.

Before he can pull back the blond speaks again.

“You missed a spot.”

Cor sighs and closes his eyes trying to think of anything other than what he's doing.

As his tongue moves over slightly chapped lips he finds it gently caught between teeth for just a moment before he's released and allowed to step back.

Al's face is clean when he finally opens his eyes but the blond holds out his soiled hand.

“You really did need to get laid.”

Oh Gods had he really made all that mess?

“Clean it up.” The blond's command is accompanied by him holding the hand out towards Cor in obvious offering.

The brunette swallows hard and takes hold of the thick wrist, raises the hand to his lips, and sets to work licking his own seed from calloused skin.

Once the job is done the blond sets quickly to work buttoning his Uniform coat.

The effect is altogether unsettling.

Some people just aren't meant to wear a uniform.

And some people have no right looking so wild in a buttoned coat.

Cor fixes his pants and straightens his own jacket.

“I uh...”

“You know where to find me.”

The blond is already walking away as he speaks.

Cor shouts after him. 

“Thank you.”

The deep voice of the Glaive echoes around him, the promise he makes hanging heavy in the air.

“Anytime.”

And then the young man is gone and Cor has to dash the other way to meet with Clarus.

He pauses only long enough to wash the taste of his own cum from his mouth, a choice he finds he regrets on a level he doesn't have time to understand.

He resolves to find the Glaive's phone number when he has a moment to do so.

There's something to be said for a troublemaker.


End file.
